No, I’m serious: Get me Michael Lewis‘ phone number!
If you ask me (and I don’t believe you did, but you might and I’m servicey like that, so here’s your answer in advance) not enough writers are the object of gratuitous sexual objectification, and here I speak, of course, not only of myself but of others as well.
Harold Bloom, for instance.
But one man, it seems, has achieved this dream, and it couldn’t have happened to a nicer sci-fi-er: Ray Bradbury is the subject of this lusty, Silvermanesque ditty, unambiguously entitled “Fuck Me, Ray Bradbury.”
And the lyrics of the tune every high school book club is going to want to perform at the Assembly:
Steve called me up and said: “Wanna hang out tonight?”
We could see an indie film or just grab a bite
I said: “Oh, Steve, YOU’RE cute, but a MOVIE’S not what I need. No offense, BUT I’d rather stay home and read.”
F-ck Me, Ray Bradbury
The greatest Sci-Fi writer in history
Oh F-ck Me, Ray Bradbury
Since I was twelve I’ve been your number one fan
“Kiss me, you ILLUSTRATED MAN.”
I’ll feed you grapes and Dandelion Wine
And we’ll read a little Fahrenheit 69
You’re a Prolific Author, Ray Bradbury
Come on baby, I’m down on one knee
I carved our names on a Halloween tree
You write about earthlings going to Mars
And I write about blowin you in my car
You won an Emmy AWARD for the screen play adaptation of Halloween Tree
F-ck Me, Ray Bradbury
The greatest Sci-Fi writer in history
Oh F-ck Me, F-ck Me Ray Bradbury
S is for space
L is for love
S is for space
L is for loveee
S is for space
L is for love
S is for space
L is for loveeeeeeeee
Houston we have a throb-blem
F-ck Me, Ray Bradbury
The greatest Sci-Fi writer in history
Oh F-ck Me, (F-ck Me) Ray Bradbury
Oh oh oh
F-ck Me, Ray Bradbury (f-ck me)
The greatest Sci-Fi writer in history
Cause when you f-ck me
Ray Bradbury
Something Wicked This Way Will Come
Something Wicked This Way Will Come
Something Wicked This Way Will Come
Something Wicked This Way Will Come
And by come, I mean ejaculate on a book.
The Shebeen Club 